


Dear Felicity

by smoakmonster



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Arrow (TV 2012) Season 7, Canon Compliant, Diary/Journal, F/M, POV First Person, Post-Season/Series 06, Post-Season/Series 06 Finale, Prison, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakmonster/pseuds/smoakmonster
Summary: A series of letters Oliver journals to Felicity from prison.





	1. June 01

June 1, 2018

Dear Felicity,

They’ve let me start keeping a journal. It’s not as durable as the one you got me in Ivy Town, but it’s something. You know me, I like having something productive to do with my hands. And I don’t know if there will ever come a day when you will actually get to read this, but at least this way I can still communicate with you. I can remember why I’m doing this.

The pen they issued me is plastic and flexible and unlike any pen I’ve ever seen. You’d probably know the name of it. You could tell me what material it’s made of and trace the capsule back to its supplier and a million other wonderful, little details I’d never think to ask.

You can’t see this right now, but the pen ink is green.

I’m not sure if the prison guard is trying to be funny or if it’s just a coincidence. I’ve learned the hard way that there are no coincidences.

Now that I’m in here, the first thing I need to ask you is--can you forgive me?

I’m sorry I left you and William the way that I did. It’s unfair to both of you. No child should have to grow up without a father. You and I know that better than anyone.

But I hope in time you’ll see that what I did, I did to protect you and William. I did what I thought was right for our city, our home. If I have to spend the rest of my life in prison knowing that my son is safe, I won’t regret it. I just regret not being there to watch him grow into the good, strong man I know he’ll be. I’m glad it’s you he has guiding him. I’m glad you have each other.

At the time, I think you both were too devastated to really be angry with me, but I worry that one day, years from now, you’ll resent me for leaving you. I’d understand that.

But I still need you.

Even after all the promises I’ve made and broken, even after all the fighting we both did to keep me from ending up in here, I need to know that you forgive me. I hope you can. You’re the most forgiving person I know. And I know it seems like I’m always asking you for that, but I need to ask you just one more time. Forgive me, Felicity.

I miss you. I miss William. I miss us.

I miss my wedding ring, too. Funny how the absence of one little object feels as though I've lost a limb. Sometimes I catch myself reaching for it in the middle of the night. Only, instead of the cool metal I expect to feel, all I get is...rough, empty skin. Every time, I’m disappointed. Yet I can’t seem to stop myself from reaching for it again next time. It’s becoming a habit I don’t see myself breaking any time soon.

I still remember with searing clarity that sunny afternoon we drove to the nearest jewelry store in Central City. After almost losing you across earths, marrying you was the happiest day of my life.

Now I’ve lost you again.

I hope the two of you are safe, wherever you are. I’m sure ARGUS has taken you into protective custody by now.

Maybe you're thinking of me, as I’m always thinking of you.

I’m okay.

I’m alive.

And I’ll survive this, somehow, knowing that the two of you are safe.

I love you. Always.

Oliver


	2. June 07

June 7, 2018

Dear Felicity,

It’s been a few days since I’ve left this cell. Still having trouble thinking of it as  my cell. There’s nothing in here that would let you or William know that it’s mine, nothing that belongs to me, other than this journal.

One thing I can tell you is that there are eight cells in between mine and the elevator. I’ve counted the number of steps it takes to get from here to the showers. 337, in case you were wondering. I’ve counted how long it takes for someone to deliver my allotted meal from the far, left corner door. 119 seconds, on a good day.

But I have no idea which wall is east or west. I don’t like not knowing.

This place is designed to be a maze. And I haven’t been this disoriented since the night The Gambit capsized.

I keep thinking about Slade, how I put him inside a room like this for years, rather than killing him. At the time it seemed like an act of mercy. Now a part of me can’t help but wonder how my old friend didn’t stay crazy, even after the Mirakuru wore off.

Time passes differently in here. On the island, even when I was alone, I had the sun to tell me when the day started and ended. But when you’re trapped inside a small gray room with no windows, it’s difficult to keep track of anything. I rely on the meal deliveries to estimate the time, but that’s all it is, Felicity. An estimate. The days of my stomach reminding me when to eat are over.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this yet, but the food in prison is terrible. I never thought I’d say this, but I could really go for one of Rene’s cheddar triple stacks right about now. Does your protective detail bring you Big Belly Burger? They better. One of us should be eating right.

I hope William is eating. I know sometimes anxiety makes it hard for him to finish a meal, but I will not accept him wasting his life away worrying about me.

Promise me, Felicity. Promise me you’ll make sure he keeps eating, keeps going, keeps living his life, as soon as Diaz is off the board and you two finally get released from ARGUS custody. When the time comes, make sure he joins the varsity baseball team--or the math club, if that’s what he wants. Just something good and normal for him to participate in at school.

I just want him to be happy. I want you both to be happy.

And I wish I could tell you that I’m happy, but I think we both know that I’m not. I’m nowhere close. But I am surviving, one endless day after another, even though there is a part of me, a part that may never go away, that never wants to get used to this. I know I’m fighting the inevitable, but I can’t help it. Old habits. I can’t go down without a fight.

So I’ve memorized where all the doors are relative to my position. I know the routes the guards take every patrol. I know how to blend in when I have to, while a dozen exit strategies are forming in my head.

But this information is pointless, since I never plan to use it. There can be no escape. Not this time.

I know my instincts have kept me alive in the past, but I’m not sure what to do with them here. And if I can’t trust my own instincts anymore, what can I trust?

I trust you. I rely on you.

You’re in my head, Felicity. Do you know that? You’re there all the time. Alone in this quiet, dark cell, your voice is louder than ever. You’re babbling, urging me to keep fighting. And I love you for that. Even if you can’t hear my thoughts, at least I can still hear yours.

This journal is helping keep me sane. Or maybe it’s making things worse. I don’t care. I'll take what small moments of home I can get in here, even if it’s all in my head.

I can go crazy if it means I never forget you.

Oliver


	3. June 09

June 9, 2018

Dear Felicity,

It’s raining today. At least, I think it’s rain. There aren’t a lot of sounds that make it into this cell. I can hear the guards coming down the hall. I can hear the men in the cells next to me.  

But this is different. The sound is faint and muffled, but it’s there. Almost like a hail of gunfire in the distance. If I try, I can pick out the individual drops hitting the roof. Or maybe I really am going crazy.

When I first came home from the island, I used to fear rain. Because rain meant thunder. And thunder meant nightmares.

My first night back, it stormed. And I was so used to sleeping on the unforgiving ground that I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed. I wanted to. But it was too...uncomfortable. Too soft. Too unfamiliar. Everything looked exactly the same, but nothing about my old room felt like me. I was a stranger in my own house.

So, being me, I slept on the floor by the window. It was easier to face the storm than to try to be someone that I wasn’t anymore.

But today, hearing the rain is calming. It means the world is still out there, that something is going on outside of these four grey walls. And even though I’m being forced to sleep in a bed that isn’t mine again, I don’t want the rain to stop this time.

Because the truth is...prison is too quiet.

I didn’t expect that. On the island, I got used to being alone with my thoughts. After a while, the isolation felt normal, and being around people made me uneasy.

Until you.

Do you remember that night you came down into the old foundry and found me sitting alone in the dark? I was so lost in my own anger and confusion...and you just appeared, turned on the light, and started chatting away in that way of yours. At the time, I had no appreciation for what you were doing. But you were saving me, even then, Felicity.

You won’t like hearing this, but I’m sitting alone in the dark again. The isolation still doesn’t bother me. And the cold is nothing compared to Lian Yu.

What does bother me, though, is being away from you and William. I can survive anything except never being with you two again. I didn't think it would be this hard this soon.

And I can’t help thinking that if only I was trapped in here with you, then I would okay. Like that time Chase trapped us inside the bunker--even on the brink of death, even with everything that remained unsaid between us, somewhere deep inside it felt  right to be there with you.

It feels wrong to be away from you now, like I'm not really myself without you.

I still hear your voice in my head. Most of my thoughts these days are a mixture of your voice and my voice and occasionally John or William thrown in. You’re all still with me.

I used to reprimand myself every time I got distracted from my mission--by you, by anyone, out in the field or just in my day-to-day existence. But now I crave any distraction I can get in here. Anything to make this place more bearable.

And that’s why I don’t want the rain to stop, Felicity. I’d rather face the fear that I know I can control than the fear I can’t.

I’m not like you. You’re so brave. Braver than I’ll ever be. That’s always been the case with us, hasn’t it?

You told me once that it’s easy to hide myself under the hood. And you were right. It is easy to hunt down enemies when you’re armed and protected. Or at least, living with the illusion of protection. Rarely are we as in control as we think we are. You taught me that, too.

I could really use one of your wise speeches right about now. Something to keep me going.

I miss you. I miss your voice, your smell, your smile...everything. Hardly a minute goes by where I don’t think of something I want to tell you. So that’s what I’m doing with this journal, Felicity. Telling you my thoughts, like you’d want me to, the only way that I can.

Oliver


	4. June 17

June 17, 2018

Dear Felicity,

I have been told today is Father’s Day, but the day has been as gray and empty as every other day in here. This year marks the second time where I am the father that is supposed to be honored, and I’m not even there for it. Last year, William was still grieving his mother, as he should have been, and I was still adjusting to my new role, so neither of us felt like celebrating. The distance between us then seemed impassable, though it is nothing compared to the distance separating us now. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that time. Because even when my son was angry with me, at least we were together.

A priest came to the visitation room today. I went and spoke with him for a few minutes, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because even though he wasn’t the visitor I wanted to see, at least he was someone different, someone without hate in his eyes. He looked at me like he understood me. A part of me wanted to yell at him not to pity me. And another part of me wanted to reach out and take whatever sympathy I could get. 

I don’t know what I expected from the conversation. I felt guilty and about ten years old the entire time, like I was in confession. My mom’s parents were Catholic. Did I ever tell you that? They died before Thea was born. I vaguely remember them, but I do remember feeling small under their scrutiny. I don’t think my parents and my grandparents got along very well.

I’m not sure where these lost memories are coming from. Maybe it’s the constant isolation. Maybe it’s what the priest said to me earlier that keeps replaying in my head, haunting me.

I found myself telling a stranger I was sorry I couldn’t be there for William anymore. And he told me, “You can still be there for your son.”

“But how?” I asked him.

And he told me I would find a way. Of course he suggested prayer, which I have no idea what to do with. I’ve tried to be a good man, for you and for William and for the city. Seems I’ve failed more than I’ve succeeded. Still, his suggestion won’t leave my mind.

Maybe I should start writing letters to William, too.

Felicity, I’ve never been a praying man. I’m not sure I know how to. But if there is one thing I would try to pray for, it’s this: that you and William stay safe and happy and together.

Oliver


	5. June 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some spoilers/speculation based on the Season 7 trailer. You have been warned!

June 24, 2018

Dear Felicity,

I had a dream about you last night. That’s nothing new. 

Only this time it wasn’t a nightmare.

Most nights, I dream the same thing. I dream Diaz finds you and William, helpless in the woods somewhere, and he makes me choose which one of you he is going to kill. Just like on the island with Sara and Shado. Just like Slade with my mother and Thea. Only in my head, it’s ten times worse. 

I’m there, but I shouldn’t be. You don’t see me, no matter how loud I yell or try to break through the invisible wall between us. I’m too far away to reach out and save you both but close enough to make the choice anyway. Only I can’t choose. Every time, I refuse. And every time, Diaz hunts down William. And I have to watch my son, my terrified little boy, scurry away on dead leaves, wearing my green hoodie (you know, my favorite one I wore on my morning runs in Ivy Town). You’re chasing after him, too, trying to stop Diaz. But you’re too late. No matter how hard I try to manipulate the dream and change the outcome, Diaz always ends up with a gun hovering over William’s head.

And then I wake up--exhausted and yet relieved that it was just another nightmare.

It’s the sweetest kind of torture. Sometimes you feel more real to me in them than in the one photograph I find myself staring at for hours on end. I have your smile memorized. I’ve counted the number of freckles the camera picked up on your nose. I search for and rechart any trace of myself in William’s expression. 

But last night was different. This one was a good dream. The best dream I’ve had in a long time, actually. The problem was that I woke up. We were in Bali, and you were laughing about jellyfish and had the beginnings of a sunburn all over your skin, but you were so happy I couldn’t bring myself to pull you out of the sun. That’s always been the case with us, Felicity. I used to be so afraid my darkness would taint your light that I stayed in the shadows, waiting for you to make the first move. Thankfully, you didn't keep me waiting very long.

It’s funny how you don’t realize how much you depend on something until it's taken away from you. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the sun. We’re only allowed outdoors for half an hour each week, and I find myself craving that brief time more and more, a chance to breathe fresh air, to feel the heat of the sun after endless hours shivering indoors. I can’t tell if it’s as cold in here as it was on Lian Yu, or if it’s just the isolation that makes the cell feel colder. 

The bed is comfortable enough. I’ve slept on worse. I’d sleep on the floor, if I didn’t think I’d freeze. 

But we both know the bed isn’t the problem. It’s hard going back to sleeping alone after months feeling you next to me. I’m starting to forget what you feel like. I don’t want to forget.

I remember those rainy nights in Aruba, when you were so disappointed we couldn’t go out to sea for a few days during the storm. But we managed to have a good time on land anyway. 

I think that was the first night that it stormed that I didn’t have a nightmare. I didn’t even realize it at the time. It wasn’t until weeks later when we settled in Ivy Town and the nightmares came back, that I realized I’d grown so accustomed to not having them; it was almost a shock when they returned. I don't know if I’ll be shocked again tonight when the nightmare returns, and the good memories start to fade.

Whatever comes, I’ll be ready for it. I don’t know how to explain that I don’t want this particular nightmare to end. As much as I hate feeling so powerless to stop my enemies from hurting you, at least in my dreams I am guaranteed to see you two every day.

You and William be safe, wherever you are.

Oliver


	6. July 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This journal entry is for @emeraldoliverqueen, who requested that Oliver get a cat! I have been reading some interesting and hopeful information about cat adoption in maximum security prisons. While I aim to keep these journal entries as accurate and canon-compliant as possible, obviously I have taken a few liberties with this particularly “light” arc. But, really, if I can’t make believe in fanfic world, what am I even doing? Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

July 30, 2018

Dear Felicity,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while.

Things have been quiet lately...as quiet as they can be in prison. I work out every day and night in my cell. I read, mostly in the communal area. I keep my distance from the other inmates outside in the exercise yard. I eat alone in the cafeteria. I do everything in my power to avoid confrontation. And thankfully everyone seems to be avoiding me for the time being, too. I get the feeling that won’t last very long.

John came to visit me this week. I didn’t think I was supposed to have visitors this early into my sentencing, but maybe ARGUS is letting John wave a few rules for me. It was nice to see my friend again.

John says he doesn't know where you and William are hiding. Only Lyla and the agents she assigned to watch you know. I gather that’s for your protection. But John gets regular reports, and he assures me that you’re both safe. That’s all that matters to me. I can survive anything in this place if I keep that focus.

Speaking of friends, I recently acquired a new one, no thanks to my lack of trying. Apparently two months of good behavior has its perks.

In the communal area, sometimes they let these cats out to interact with us, and a few inmates are responsible for cleaning their litter boxes and making sure they stay fed. It’s part of some prison reform program...something.

Everyone in here takes the program very seriously. Most prisoners do not look kindly on anyone messing with their pet.

Yesterday, while I was reading, one of the cats wandered over to my corner in the room and decided my lap was the place to be. Evidently one of the older inmates passed away, and the cat had belonged to him.

I’m not sure why this cat chose me.

I don’t know anything about taking care of an animal.

Growing up, we never had pets at the mansion, since my mom was allergic. But I used to hear from the other kids at school what it was like having a dog or a cat. For a long time, I remember being jealous of that. Having someone to take care of. Having a friend to come home to, waiting for you. Then Thea came along, and I forgot all about that need. She filled a lot of holes in my life that I didn’t realize were there before.

I miss her every day.

I worry about her and Roy out there, doing God-knows-what, trying to undo her father’s wrongs like I tried to undo mine.

It’s strange, but the cat that spent an hour with me yesterday reminded me of Thea. These big brown eyes looked up at me with so much trust that I didn’t know what do with. Though, truth be told, the cat slept most of the time, while I flipped through The Iliad. (I’m no literary expert, but I remember liking The Odyssey much better.)

Still, for a few, short, peaceful minutes, I let myself imagine that life was better than it is. I let myself scratch the imprinted black M on his forehead. I let myself pretend that the feeling of care that came over me was natural, like I haven’t really lost myself in here completely. And when it was time to leave, I let myself watch him wander back into the carrier cage, to be taken somewhere else. The cat is free to come and go as he pleases, free to wander from cell and to cell without fear of retribution.

I’ve never envied an animal before, but I think I’m starting to now.

I wish I could be free to wander home to you.

Oliver


	7. September 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last journal entry before the Season 7 premiere! Enjoy!

September 22, 2018

Dear Felicity,

It’s getting harder to find positive things to write about.

And it’s hard to believe I’ve been in this place for four months already. Like on the island, time doesn’t really matter in here. But I like knowing  exactly how long I’ve been apart from you. It’s the only sense of control I can get right now. It’s the only way I know how to manage the pain. I even have chalk marks on the wall beneath my window to help me keep track. You’d probably have something witty to say about that.

Unlike on the island, though, prison life has become predictable and routine. Every day of the guard bangs on my cell to get me up. Every day I mark a new chalk line. Every day I eat the same bland food and sleep on cold, unforgiving concrete. Every day I see the same unspoken threats from other inmates and force myself to remain on the sidelines whenever a fight breaks out.

I’m surviving just fine, Felicity.

But that’s all I’m doing. Surviving.

As much as I don’t want to admit this, maybe that’s all I’m meant for.

I try not to get distracted by the taunting future...a future where I’m not showering out in the open with a dozen strangers watching me. Where I’m not constantly having to keep my head down to avoid conflict. Where Diaz is finally off the board and we’re all together and a family again.

That dream seems...so far away now. I shouldn’t let myself hope for it, but some days I can’t help myself.

Whenever I’m in my cell, I stare at the photo of you and William for what feels like hours on end. I can’t get enough of you two. I see you smiling, so happy and content and  free...and I can’t help but ache for that, to go back to the moment when that photo was taken.  

Dig says there have been no new leads on Diaz this past month, which means you are still in hiding.

I’m so sorry, Felicity. I’m sorry I forced you into that kind of life, and now you’re just as trapped as I am. As usual, my plan is taking longer than I had anticipated. 

I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you agreed to become a part of my team, or when you agreed to marry me. And yet, you’d probably tell me that it’s exactly what you signed up for.

After all my talk about having a plan, I’m the one who’s been in denial--hoping for a normal life someday for you and William, if not for me.

I sometimes think about how all of this started because of a list my father helped create. It’s that list that brought you to me--or me to you.

Well, I’ve started another list.

Every time I think I’m going over the edge, I remember all the good things we’ve done together. They seem few and precious in comparison to everything else, but they are some of my strongest memories. Sara was right. Love is the most powerful emotion.

The memories are getting me through, Felicity.

For now that’s enough. It has to be enough.

Oliver

 

P.S. By the way, the cat that I've been hanging with out for the past month got adopted by another inmate. Someone who has a job and has been on the pet adoption waiting list. I never did learn its name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point forward, I plan to write journal entries once a week following each new episode.


	8. October 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of this series! The final three chapters will each convey a sort of post-episodic reflection, giving you some of Oliver's thoughts regarding what is going on, as he transitions from keeping his head down to fighting back. 
> 
> This chapter takes place during 7x01 and contains spoilers for the episode, obviously! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

October 15, 2018

Dear Felicity,

My hands are still shaking after seeing you today. I think I may be partially in shock, but if my handwriting seems worse than usual this week, that’s the reason.

All this time, I’ve been imagining what it would be like when I saw you again, and still nothing could have prepared me for seeing you bruised and hurting and afraid, yet somehow alive and still fighting. Always so strong and...exactly the woman I married.

It’s jarring how vibrant you are.

For a moment, I felt like I was coming back from the island all over again.

After being in such close proximity to you for so long, I must have forgotten. How could I do that? I don’t want to take the effect you have on me for granted again. Maybe it’ll always be this way. Maybe you’ll always surprise me. I hope so.

And I’ve missed you, too, Baby. I know I keep saying this, but I don’t think even I realized how much until now. Until you were only a foot away from me but still out of my reach. Exactly like in my nightmares. Except in my nightmares, you die. Every time. And today, after the attack in the showers, I thought...this was it. I thought my worst nightmare had finally come true. Until you walked into the room.

I’m not always the best with words, even less so when I’m trying to describe what it is I’m feeling. After seeing you again, all that comes to mind now is something I read recently in The Count of Monte Cristo, the book I currently keep on the shelf in my cell, beneath the picture of you and William.

“It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”

I thought I understood what that meant, since I’ve wished for death many times over the last eleven years.

But nothing like last night and this morning.

When one of Diaz’s men who attacked me told me you were dead...I wanted to be dead. I don’t know how to explain it, but it was like all the life went out of me. I could feel the darkness closing in. All night, I was on edge, pacing my cell. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely breathe. All I could think about was any of a hundred different scenarios where you could have been killed.

And then you were there, alive and okay and breathing--not just a photo in my hands of a life so far away and a past that seems too good to be true. You were  real. I heard your voice, your real voice, talking back to me. Even when you got angry, as you have every right to be. Even when you said what I didn’t want to hear. At least you were real.

I wish we’d had more time. There are so many other things I wanted to tell you, but at least I said the most important two. I love you, and everything I have done and will continue to do is for you and William, to keep you both safe. I know you know that, and I know things haven’t always gone the way that I wanted, the way either of us wanted. But I won’t stop until you are. Even if that means I have to take out every other prisoner in this place to get to Diaz, I’ll do it.

And I know it’s not fair to ask any less of you, to ask you not to do everything you can to protect our son and our home. You wouldn’t be the woman I love if you did that, and, truth be told, I haven’t really been myself trying to keep my head down. John was right. Being passive has never been who I am. Even though I chose this, I still don’t like being trapped in here, while you’re out there fighting Diaz on your own.

At least promise me you’ll be careful, Felicity, whatever you do.

Oliver

 

P.S. I should have told you. I like your pink hair.


	9. October 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter are based around episode 7x02.

October 21, 2018

Dear Felicity,

I am back in my cell after being in the hole for two days. 

Or so my guard tells me. I assume it’s only been two days, but for all I know after being locked in a windowless room, it could be weeks or merely hours later. 

The prolonged isolation and darkness are meant to break me into submission, but these people seem to forget that I lived on an island for a few years. I’m used to darkness. I’m used to dealing with people trying to break me.

The reason I ended up in the hole is because I had an... encounter with one of the inmates, the one who told me you were dead. I’m okay, I promise. You should see the other guy. And the only reason I went after him is because of you--seeing you injured and frightened but still fighting back woke something up inside me. You were right, as usual. So I couldn’t go down without a fight either. Despite what you saw the other day, I hope you know that I can handle myself. I don’t want you to worry about me in here. I meant what I said. I’m okay, as long as you and William are okay. And you have more important things to worry about, like keeping yourself safe and stopping Diaz. If I can’t be there to help with the former, the least I can do is try to help you with the latter.

Unfortunately, nothing in prison comes easy, especially not information. 

The inmate who organized the attack in the showers wants a favor before he’ll give up the information I need, but I have no interest in taking an innocent man's life. I have to find another way. I wish you were here to help me do that.

And I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but we have inspection tomorrow, and I can't risk anyone else preventing my plan.

What I can tell you is that I have acquired a friend. Reluctantly, I might add. You know me, I don’t always do well with friends. You and John seem to be the exception to that. But this is someone who is willing to help me, and right now that’s all I need.

Oliver


	10. October 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also takes place during 7x02. Enjoy!

October 22, 2018

Dear Felicity,

The first part of plan went smoothly, all things considered. Except it didn’t yield me the information I’d hoped it would, so I had to improvise the second part. And I have a new injury and one less guard to deal with to show for it.

It’ll be worth it, if it brings me one step closer to you and William.

Felicity, I have thought about you nearly every minute over the last few days--if possible, even more than usual. My visitation rights have been revoked for the time being, so I can’t even rely on John to give me an update on where you are. But you’re still in my head, guiding me, helping me.

I’ve said the words “my wife” twice in two days, and it feels good to talk about you in whatever way I can, to remind myself that I’m always carrying some part of you with me wherever I go. As much as I hate all the pain I’ve put you through, I can’t regret that you’ve changed me for the better. Today I found a better way, and I owe that decision to you.  

It seems selfish to look back on the last six years and see how much I have gained just from having you in my life, when you probably could have been happy anywhere, with anymore. 

Sometimes I still wonder why you chose me. I still doubt whether you made the right choice. 

And I know what you would say--that you did make the right choice, that given the opportunity to go back and do it again, you would make the same choice over and over. I love you all the more for that certainty, for bringing clarity and hope into my life when I had none. 

Whatever happens, I love you enough to trust that choice. Or maybe I need you too much to ever let you go. 

Either way, you’re still giving me something to fight for. 

Oliver


	11. October 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! One more chapter to complete this series! This chapter takes place during 7x03.
> 
> Well, we have reached the final chapter in this series, given that Oliver was headed down to Level 2 at the end of 7x03 and will have likely even more restricted access to items. Thus, I don't know if/when I will ever revisit this series, though I am open to continuing it. We will have to wait and see what happens on the show. 
> 
> Thank you so much for giving this series a try with me! This was a nice change of pace my normal fanfic writing. I hope you enjoyed it!

October 29, 2018

Dear Felicity,

This will be my last journal entry for a while. Maybe ever. Where I’m going, it’s likely I won’t even see this journal again. I don’t have a lot of time, probably until sunrise, when the new guard rotation comes in. 

I crossed a line tonight, Felicity. I didn’t kill anyone, but I did some things that will likely make my confinement more difficult. I know you said you’d wait for me, but the choice I just made will no doubt prolong the waiting to much longer than I was willing to admit in the beginning. And I wanted to tell you while I still have the chance… I’m sorry, Honey. But that’s the only thing I’m sorry for right now.

I feel like every decision I make to try to get closer to Diaz, I end up getting pushed back three steps away from you. After tonight, I doubt there will be any chance of getting my sentence shortened. 

I’ve hurt people before, as you well know. But tonight was different. I did what I had to do to make myself seem as volatile as possible. And there was a part of me, somewhere deep down, that didn't have to try too hard. 

This person that I have to become in order to survive...feels wrong in way it didn’t before. Not like on the island. On the island, there was no other way. But now that I’ve lived another way, I know here is always a choice. And I still acted the way I did tonight. Because I wanted to. Because I’ll do whatever it takes to stop Diaz.

You of all people understand that.

And it’s just like you once told me, my gut has kept me alive this many years. I hope it’ll keep me alive to see you again someday.

In the meantime, I am keeping the photo of you and William close to me. I won’t let them take away this one piece of you that I can get. This is the only way I know I can face what’s coming. With you. I used to think in order to survive, I had to cut myself off from people. But I learned my lesson that way. I won’t let you go this time.

For better or worse, this place is changing me. As much as I try to deny it, I can feel it. Or maybe the person I have to be in here is just someone I’ve done a very good job of hiding from for a long time. 

If by some miracle I ever get out of here, you should know that the Oliver you get back may not be the Oliver you lost a few months ago. And like with everything I endured on the island, I don’t know if I will ever be able to explain it all to you. But I’ll try, if you’re willing to listen. As long as you’re around to listen.

I love you.

I miss you. I’ll miss this journal, too.

And I promise I won’t stop fighting to get home to you. 

Oliver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading!! You darlings are the best :)


End file.
